shrugged. "But then, you know that."
Emma looked out on the gently rolling land to avoid searching Aaron's expression for signs of sincerity.
She didn't care whether he was sincere, she reminded herself. It was obvious what he was really after.
"I don't have any money to give you." Emma tried to sound matter-of-fact, not letting on how much he could still hurt her. "And that box of your stuff is still at the office. If you don't come get it in the next couple of days, I'm throwing it out."
"I'll come get it."
"That's what you've been saying for a year."
She unclasped the chain on the green metal gate and led the horse to the field. Vesta began to fidget at the prospect of freedom, and she pawed at the ground and excitedly tossed her head, making Emma dance around in her effort to unsnap the lead. The instant she was free, the horse bolted, her dark, shiny form racing down the fence line, her head lowered, her mane and tail flying.
"That is one fine animal," Aaron said with a hushed voice. "She really lets you ride her? God, I'd like to see that."
Aaron nodded toward the Quarter Horse in the adjoining field. "And how's the Bud Man doing?"
Emma yanked the chain closed, then looped the lead around her wrist as she headed back to the barn, ignoring him
"I only need about eight hundred," he said, falling in step with her. "And I can pay you back next week, I swear to God."
They'd reached the barn door and Emma walked ahead of him into the dimness, pretending she hadn't heard him. But she had, and her blood was hammering against her skin and she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kill him!
In all their time together—through the other women and the debt—she'd never been more disgusted with Aaron than she was at that very instant. Maybe signing the divorce papers earlier that week had given her permission to feel everything she'd ever wanted to feel, in a way she never dared when she carried the title of "wife."
There was nothing to salvage anymore. No reason to pretend it could still be all right.
Aaron's hand went to her shoulder.
"Don't you dare touch me!" She spun around.
Aaron took a step back. "Hey, wait a—"
"I wouldn't give you a dime if I were the richest woman on earth! God, Aaron, thanks to you, I'm barely keeping the clinic doors open! I can't believe you've got the gonads to come out here and ask me to bail you out again!"
"Hey, c'mon, Em, settle down. We can talk about—"
"We're not going to talk about anything!" Emma stomped her foot and looked around the barn in desperation, trying not to completely lose it. She took a big breath. "We're divorced. Does this ring a bell? I am your ex-wife, Aaron. You are no longer my problem and I don't give a damn what unbelievably stupid thing you've done this time because it has nothing to do with me. Are we clear on this?"
Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets and looked contrite. "It was a parlay and it was one of those fluke things. It wasn't my fault."
Emma threw up her hands, the lead line snapping in the air. "My God! It's never your fault, is it? It's always somebody else's fault, somebody else's screwup—never your responsibility for making such dumb-ass decisions in the first place!" She felt the tears building and fought hard against them. She would not let him see her cry.
She turned away and hung the rope on its peg, then took several calming breaths before she had the courage to look him in the face.
Aaron Kramer had been a good vet. He could be sweet and witty and fun. Emma had loved him so much, for so long, that she could hardly remember a time when he wasn't at the center of her life.
They'd had their minor differences in opinion through the years, but Emma and Aaron had always shared the same basic philosophy about life and work. But that day about a year ago, the day Aaron lost his cool with a patient, was the end for them.
He'd screamed at an owner—told her right to her face that she
Emma looked out on the gently rolling land to avoid searching Aaron's expression for signs of sincerity.
She didn't care whether he was sincere, she reminded herself. It was obvious what he was really after.
"I don't have any money to give you." Emma tried to sound matter-of-fact, not letting on how much he could still hurt her. "And that box of your stuff is still at the office. If you don't come get it in the next couple of days, I'm throwing it out."
"I'll come get it."
"That's what you've been saying for a year."
She unclasped the chain on the green metal gate and led the horse to the field. Vesta began to fidget at the prospect of freedom, and she pawed at the ground and excitedly tossed her head, making Emma dance around in her effort to unsnap the lead. The instant she was free, the horse bolted, her dark, shiny form racing down the fence line, her head lowered, her mane and tail flying.
"That is one fine animal," Aaron said with a hushed voice. "She really lets you ride her? God, I'd like to see that."
Aaron nodded toward the Quarter Horse in the adjoining field. "And how's the Bud Man doing?"
Emma yanked the chain closed, then looped the lead around her wrist as she headed back to the barn, ignoring him
"I only need about eight hundred," he said, falling in step with her. "And I can pay you back next week, I swear to God."
They'd reached the barn door and Emma walked ahead of him into the dimness, pretending she hadn't heard him. But she had, and her blood was hammering against her skin and she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kill him!
In all their time together—through the other women and the debt—she'd never been more disgusted with Aaron than she was at that very instant. Maybe signing the divorce papers earlier that week had given her permission to feel everything she'd ever wanted to feel, in a way she never dared when she carried the title of "wife."
There was nothing to salvage anymore. No reason to pretend it could still be all right.
Aaron's hand went to her shoulder.
"Don't you dare touch me!" She spun around.
Aaron took a step back. "Hey, wait a—"
"I wouldn't give you a dime if I were the richest woman on earth! God, Aaron, thanks to you, I'm barely keeping the clinic doors open! I can't believe you've got the gonads to come out here and ask me to bail you out again!"
"Hey, c'mon, Em, settle down. We can talk about—"
"We're not going to talk about anything!" Emma stomped her foot and looked around the barn in desperation, trying not to completely lose it. She took a big breath. "We're divorced. Does this ring a bell? I am your ex-wife, Aaron. You are no longer my problem and I don't give a damn what unbelievably stupid thing you've done this time because it has nothing to do with me. Are we clear on this?"
Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets and looked contrite. "It was a parlay and it was one of those fluke things. It wasn't my fault."
Emma threw up her hands, the lead line snapping in the air. "My God! It's never your fault, is it? It's always somebody else's fault, somebody else's screwup—never your responsibility for making such dumb-ass decisions in the first place!" She felt the tears building and fought hard against them. She would not let him see her cry.
She turned away and hung the rope on its peg, then took several calming breaths before she had the courage to look him in the face.
Aaron Kramer had been a good vet. He could be sweet and witty and fun. Emma had loved him so much, for so long, that she could hardly remember a time when he wasn't at the center of her life.
They'd had their minor differences in opinion through the years, but Emma and Aaron had always shared the same basic philosophy about life and work. But that day about a year ago, the day Aaron lost his cool with a patient, was the end for them.
He'd screamed at an owner—told her right to her face that she
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